


Finding His Way

by sidewinder



Series: The Spaces in Between [21]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Gen, M/M, and a tiny hint of Rollisi (if you squint), it's mostly a friendship fic, with background Munch/Fin (of course because it's me)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-24 21:20:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12021228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidewinder/pseuds/sidewinder
Summary: It was a slow process getting to know his co-workers—and finding his way at SVU.





	Finding His Way

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [SVU Characterization Week](http://svucharacterappreciation.tumblr.com) for Sonny, based (loosely) around the quote prompt “I worked Homicide a couple of years. It’s…it’s the women who get you.”

Sonny pushed open the door with greater force than he’d intended, entering the squad room full of pent-up frustration and annoyance. He’d been doing his best to remain positive and upbeat since getting this new assignment to Manhattan SVU, but some days? That was proving far easier said than done.

Days like today. He’d wasted most of his morning trying to get somewhere with an uncooperative witness; he needed her to make a positive ID, if they were going to make a case. It had taken him days to simply locate her from surveillance footage, and a few people from the neighborhood who recognized her. But she was denying having seen anything, even when he showed her the images proving she had been on the scene.

She claimed she had no knowledge of what had occurred and couldn’t recognize anyone from the line-up photos. A woman was in a coma in the hospital, unable to speak about the man who had dragged her off the street to rape and beat her, and Sonny couldn’t get this one last piece in place that he needed before he could get an arrest warrant for their suspect.

So when he spotted someone unfamiliar hanging out at Fin’s desk—in fact sitting there as if it were somehow his _own,_ scribbling away on a notepad—Sonny walked straight over asked, “Excuse me, sir. Can I help you with something?”

“That depends.” The man rose from where he had made himself at home in Fin’s chair. He was tall—about an inch taller than Sonny—considerably older, and well-dressed. He was also clearly sizing Sonny up in a way that did little to improve the detective’s mood. “Who exactly are you?” the man asked, lowering his head to peer at Sonny over the top of his glasses.

“Detective Dominick Carisi.” Whoever this guy was, in no way did he merit a “Call me Sonny” yet.

“Ah. The new guy,” the stranger said, as if that explained everything. “You can help if you might be able to tell me where Rollins and Fin are at currently. I need to speak with them as soon as possible.”

The assumed familiarity once again jarred him. “Detectives Tutuola and Rollins are out on a case right now. If I can be of assistance instead, I—.”

“No, never mind,” he cut Sonny off with a dismissive wave of the hand. “I was hoping to catch them here instead of making them come all the way down to Hogan Place. It’s regarding the Thompkins rape from last year that’s finally scheduled for trial next week. There’s a few discrepancies between their report and what the victim said on re-interview, during trial prep. We need to make sure everyone’s got their stories straight before the defense can rip any holes in the case.”

So this guy seemed to be someone from the DA’s office, Sonny gathered, realizing he hadn’t even gotten a name yet. “Well I’m sure our detectives wouldn’t lie in their reports. That’s not how things work around here.”

“Oh, I know all about how things work around here, kid. Anyway...I left Fin a message, including a reminder to stop letting his cell phone battery run down all the time, so I can reach him when I need him.”

And with that the man headed off, only stopping as Amaro strolled in. Nick was returning from his lunch break with a paper bag in hand, and seemed incredibly pleased by the surprise visitor.

“Nick! Great to see you out of uniform again.”

“Hey!” The two exchanged smiles and a friendly hug, chatting briefly until the stranger departed. When he did, Sonny went over to Nick and asked, “Who the heck was that?”

“Our former sergeant, John Munch. He’s working out of the DA’s office now.”

“I gathered the last bit. But what’s his deal?”

“Munch?” Nick shook his head and chuckled softly. “If you can ever figure that out, then you’re one up on the rest of us. Except maybe Fin.”

Amaro sat down to focus his attention on his sandwich. Sonny frowned and then shrugged the bizarre encounter off. He had more pressing concerns to address at the moment, including what he was going to say to Sergeant Benson when she returned from her lunch break.

Because Sonny wasn’t a slacker, and he wanted to be here. But he had the feeling his presence wasn’t exactly embraced with open arms just yet.

* * *

Time passed. Today, Sonny couldn’t be happier. Proud of himself, though he tried not to be smug about it. They’d made it to the end of a hard week on the job with several tricky cases closed out, and no immediately pressing business for the weekend. He’d even earned the sergeant’s praise for finding a connection between several recent assaults that had ended up bringing in a serial rapist before he could strike again.

And, to further Sonny’s triumphant mood, he’d finally been invited out with his coworkers for a celebratory after-hours drink.

He knew they went out pretty regularly as a group. Maybe not every Friday, but a lot of them. Whenever the week had ended on an “up” instead of “down” note and they had good cause to let off some steam. However it had taken until this particular Friday night for Amanda to ask him, as she grabbed her coat, “Carisi, wanna come with? We’re getting a round or two down the street. And you certainly deserve one for today’s work.”

“Thanks, Rollins. Sure! Let me just...I’ll be right behind you.” He quickly shut down his computer and cleaned up his desk for the weekend. And, he tried not to grin too much as they headed out to the bar together, starting to feel like he might be welcome here after all.

Fin was texting on his phone as they walked along, and Benson asked him, “John joining us?”

“Yeah, on his way.”

“Good.”

Sonny didn’t connect the “John” whom Benson mentioned to the former sergeant he’d met some weeks before. Not until they had settled into their table at the bar and were already one round in, and a voice behind Sonny’s shoulder asked, “Is this seat taken?”

Sonny turned and saw it was none other than that Munch guy again. “No, help yourself,” he replied.

“Thanks.” Munch eased into the empty chair, between Sonny and Fin, and asked, “So who’s buying tonight?”

“I’ll get this round,” Amaro offered, getting up to go to the bar. “Same for everyone?”

“Gin and tonic for me.” After he left, John sighed and said, “I need to have a talk with Nick about how he doesn’t owe me for the rest of his life.”

“Owe you for what?” Sonny asked, curious.

Amanda jumped in with the explanation. “When Nick had some...trouble...before you transferred in, John paid his not insignificant bail.”

“Wow. That was generous.”

“You know what they say about a fool and his money.” John shrugged. “Then again, if he’d high-tailed it out of town on my life savings, at least my exes wouldn’t have been able to milk another dime from me.”

“No, but some of us might’ve kicked your ass for bein’ so gullible,” Fin said.

“I was merely looking out for a friend. Right, ’Liv?”

She smiled. “It’s what you’ve always done, John.”

They enjoyed their second round, after which Olivia announced she needed to head home to relieve Lucy of babysitting duties and spend some quality time with Noah. Amanda and Nick had wandered off to play a round of pool in the other room, leaving Sonny at the table with Munch and Fin.

He’d so far learned that the two of them had been partners at SVU, for quite a few years, before and after Munch had make sergeant. Beyond that, Munch was the one asking the most questions about Sonny and his life experiences. Fin, as usual, remained quiet save the occasional pointed remark.

“So how’d you end up in SVU?” Munch asked.

“Ah, y’know...moving around, trying out different divisions in the force once I got my shield. I worked Homicide for a few years...”

“Ah, Homicide! My old unit.”

“Oh yeah?”

Munch nodded. “In my Baltimore days, before I moved to New York. Years and years ago.”

“Ancient history,” Fin put in for good measure, “which I’ve heard about more times than I care to remember.”

Munch chose to ignore Fin and continued to Sonny, “Homicide’s usually the prestige assignment everyone wants in on. Why’d you leave?”

It wasn’t the first time Sonny had heard that question, because Munch was right. Most detectives fought to get into the “murder police” and were in no rush to leave. Not unless they couldn’t cut it. “I dunno...guess I just decided it wasn’t for me. Always dealing with the dead, it seemed...I mean we get our share of murders in SVU, too, of course. But at least here...sometimes, we get to help the living as well.” He paused, reflecting back. Even from those few years in Homicide, there were cases that plagued his thoughts. Images that haunted him in the early hours of the morning when sleep proved elusive. “The women get to you, there, you know?”

“Oh, believe me, I know. But don’t think the living victims won’t some day get to you even worse.” John finished his drink as Amanda and Nick returned to the table, Rollins declaring victory. Munch turned his attention to Fin and asked, “I’m starting to feel about ready to turn into a pumpkin. Are you good?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Fin eased out of his stool and said, “See you guys on Monday?”

“Let’s hope not until then,” came Amanda’s reply. She gave Munch a hug, and Nick waved good-bye as the two older men departed.

“Nice seeing old partners stay friends like that,” Sonny said. He hadn’t grown that close with any of his previous partners, he supposed thanks to not sticking around once place all that long. He hoped that might change, here at last. Especially, maybe, with Amanda. He liked her. Maybe a little more than he _should_ like a co-worker, but he wasn’t going to push that.

Amanda and Nick shared a secretive look, causing Sonny to knit his brows in concern. “What, am I missing something?”

“You’re a smart detective, you’ll figure it out,” Nick said. That only left Sonny more puzzled than previously—and acutely aware he was still the “new guy”, not trusted with things the others all knew about each other.

It kind of sucked. But he’d keep working at it. He was nothing if not persistent.

* * *

Sonny wasn’t completely dense, so it didn’t take him _that_ long to connect the dots.

That John almost always joined them for end-of-the-week drinks, and when he did he never departed without Fin at his side.

The picture on Fin’s desk of the two of them on vacation somewhere, looking a _lot_ more chummy than simply “old partners”.

That Fin wore what looked like a wedding band, despite never mentioning a wife.

And one evening at the bar, Sonny noticed John’s wedding band was an identical match to Fin’s.

“Hey Rollins, can I ask you something?”

It was Monday again. They were walking back from lunch break, coffees in hand. She didn’t raise any objection, so he continued, “Fin and John...John Munch...They’re together, right? Like...married, together?”

She gave him a measured glance, then confirmed, “Uh huh. You heard it from someone?”

“No, figured it out on my own. But I wanted to be sure.”

“They’re not closeted about it, if you’re wondering. Just...quiet.”

“I get that. ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell’?”

“More like don’t tell Fin you think they make a cute couple. Not unless you want to get the death scowl or worse from him for at least week,” she warned, finishing her words with a laugh.

“Okay, my lips are sealed. Until or unless Fin mentions it himself.”

Amanda nodded in approval. “You have to understand, Carisi, it’s still tough to be in an openly gay relationship on the force. Fin told me it was especially difficult when they were partners. Our old captain had to work hard sometimes to keep that from becoming an issue with any of the higher-ups.” Amanda talked about their old captain, Don Cragen, quite a bit. Sonny frequently wished he’d known all these people he heard about from the others. There was a lot of history in this unit of SVU, a lot of people who’d seen out their careers here instead of making it a short-term assignment like most did.

“I can appreciate all that. And I’ve certainly gotten the feeling Fin’s a private guy to begin with.”

Amanda chuckled. “No kidding. John told me once that it took them being partners almost _two years_ before Fin even told him he had a son.”

“Fin has a kid?!”

“You see what I mean? By the time I transferred to New York and partnered with him, he was a _little_ more open than that. But not by much.”

“Okay, I only wanted to know, so I didn’t, y’know, say something stupid, some time.”

“You? Say something stupid?” she teased. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Hey!”

She ribbed him with her elbow. “C’mon. The sarge texted me that Arden came in voluntarily a few minutes ago, so we’ve got a suspect to put on the hot seat. Let’s go light a fire under his ass.”

“I can’t wait.”

* * *

“I hate this sitting around. Doing nothing.” Sonny fidgeted, adjusting his tie for the umpteenth time that morning. He understood the legal reasons for it, of course. Since they were both testifying they couldn’t sit in the gallery and hear the proceedings leading up to their appearance. But it felt like a waste of time when they had a full load of cases to be working on at the precinct.

Fin snorted in response. “Do this job long enough, you’ll come to appreciate havin’ some quiet time.”

Sonny glanced over his shoulder at the closed courtroom door. “How d’you think it’s going in there?”

Fin shrugged. “Barba’s no doubt doing everything he can to send those bastards away as long as possible. Hard to deny the evidence, and we got a clean confession from the accomplice who flipped on these two losers. If that jury’s got any common sense it should be a unanimous verdict. A fast one at that.”

“Hope so.” It had been an ugly case, a brutal assault which Barba had managed to convince the grand jury deserved hate crime charges, along with first degree rape. A young man and his boyfriend had been targeted by a group of teens after coming out of a gay bar in the Village. The boyfriend managed to get away and run for help, but not before their victim, Joey Hynes, was dragged off in a van, beaten and sodomized, and then dumped in an abandoned lot near the waterfront. “The way they went at Joey, he’s lucky to be alive. But I don’t know how he’s gonna be able to move on from what happened.”

“It’s gonna take time, like for any other vic. And things won’t ever be the same for him. They’ll get better, but...it’ll always be there, in the back of his mind. Scars that are more than physical.” Sonny looked to Fin, picking up a hint from the sound of his voice. There was something personal about this case for him, more than it being an attack based on the victim being gay. He said nothing, though, knowing Fin well enough by now that he would only open up when he was ready, and at his own pace.

“My son’s husband was attacked, few years ago,” he finally explained. “Situation a lot like this case, part of a gang initiation. It was...he got it real bad. Even worse than Joey. Almost didn’t make it and he’s got some health issues as a result that are gonna be with him for life.”

“Damn. I’m sorry.” Sonny hadn’t known, of course. He thought things over for a moment, and then asked cautiously, “You don’t think Buchanan might try to bring that up? Say you have a bias, an axe to grind?”

“He might. Buchanan is scum, he’ll try his best to dirty you up,” Fin said. “He’ll probably even bring up me bein’ in a gay relationship myself. At this point? It’s not like I care. I might want to kick his ass when I get out of that courtroom, but the best way to deal with that son of a bitch is keepin’ your cool on the stand. Never let him see you sweat. So don’t forget that, Carisi.”

“I won’t.” And Sonny wouldn’t forget this moment of openness from Fin, either. Knowing that Fin trusted him enough to share these details of his life gave him heart, and more determination than ever to do his best today when the bailiff called his name.

* * *

Late evening and the corridors of One Hogan Place were dark. Almost as dark as Sonny’s mood, as he headed to the elevators from Barba’s office. Benson had sent him off to deliver files—their continued findings of negligence within the Department of Child Services—so that the ADA could use them in wrapping up this case in court tomorrow. Grayson would be on the stand and Barba wanted to hit her with everything he could to illustrate her complete negligence.

And yet, somehow, it didn’t seem to be enough. Not the evidence—they had _plenty_ of that, more than Sonny wanted to think about—but the potential outcome. Jail time, needed reform within the system... Sure, that would be all good and well. But it wouldn’t bring Keisha Ozuna back to life. It wouldn’t change the fact that she’d been locked in a dog cage, left to starve to death while her mother only cared about getting high.

Finding Keisha in that cage...that would be another one of those images that would never leave Sonny’s mind. It made his _soul_ hurt to think about her, to wonder how many other children out there had or still suffered similar neglect and abuse.

Was Sonny doing all he could to stop that, he wondered? Or was there some other calling where he could do more?

As he walked along, lost in these deep thoughts, he spotted a light on in one room along the way. The squad room for the DA’s Special Investigations Unit. He glanced inside, out of curiosity, and was surprised to recognize the lone man there at work. Sonny stopped and knocked lightly on the open door, catching John Munch’s attention immediately.

“Hey, Sonny!” he said, which made the detective smile. John was the one person who actually _did_ call him that now, without fail. “What has you lurking about at this forsaken hour?”

“Just delivering some files to Barba before heading home.” He stepped into the large room full of empty desks, save John’s. The squad room wasn’t as fancy or modern as the one at the 16th, but it had a comfortable, familiar feeling. An old-fashioned police bullpen, straight out of some gritty crime show on tv. Munch seemed right at home here. “Why are you workin’ so late? I thought cops retired to stop pulling all-nighters.”

“Hmph. I thought so, too. But occasionally there are deadlines that wait for no man’s rest. Judges who won’t hear of another continuance. Besides,” John checked his phone, stretched his neck and rolled his shoulders, “Fin’s stuck in an interrogation that could last most of the night, or so he told me. And on occasion being alone at work is better than being alone at home. But a little company either way is far better.” He indicated to the chair next to his desk and Sonny took it without hesitation.

“Fin tell you about our case that Barba’s trying now?”

“Of course. Plus it’s been all over the news—and the gossip network here at the DA’s. Not easy taking on institutional corruption in this city. But when children are dying? People will finally demand answers—and change.”

“I sure hope so.” Sonny paused, trying to gather his thoughts. Munch was easy to talk to. He’d started to understand why no one at SVU seemed to want to let him go, move on. He was kind of like a priest who would hear your confessions without making you do penance afterwards—though he’d always leave you with something to think about. “Y’know, a while back you told me it’s the living victims who get to you. Now I think they _all_ do, to be honest. The living, the dead...the ones you wonder about, think maybe you could’ve saved them if you’d only gotten there a little sooner. The ones who were crying out for help, but...no one could hear them. Or people pretended they couldn’t hear, so they didn’t have to take any responsibility.”

John nodded, his expression suitably pensive. He then opened the bottom drawer of his desk, and out came two glass tumblers and a bottle of amber liquid.

Sonny grinned. “I thought only lawyers kept a secret stash of Scotch in their desks.”

“You’re not wrong—Scotch is a seemingly natural proclivity of the legal profession which I’ve never had a taste for. This is bourbon.” He poured them both a finger’s worth, then handed Sonny his glass.

“Thanks.”

“Drinking alone is no more fun than sitting at home alone,” John said, raising his glass in a toast, then taking a sip. “Are you debating if SVU is where you should be, Sonny? Because there’s no shame in that; I’ve known some excellent detectives in the past who found it too troubling, too hard on the heart. They went on to do fine work in other departments. Vice, Arson, Major Case...”

“Yeah, no...I don’t know,” he confessed. “If anything...I’m actually studying to take the bar exam. So if I did move somewhere, it wouldn’t be another division of the police. It’d be somewhere else, where maybe I could make more of a difference.”

“I see.”

“I guess the thing I wonder is, do I want to keep trying to catch the bad guys and then leave it up to someone else to bring them to justice? Or do I want to be the one to try to make sure they get what they deserve? Maybe even try to improve the justice system itself, where it seems to keep falling short.”

“Well you know, prosecutors and police...they’re both just different parts of the same whole. Although prosecuting attorneys and law makers don’t have to walk onto fresh crime scenes and stare at bloated bodies, mangled corpses. They don’t need to come face-to-face with a dead baby in a cooler, fished out of the Hudson River. Or look down on the still-beautiful face of an old high school crush, found strangled to death in a parking garage in the middle of winter.” John paused to take a sip of his drink, and Sonny noticed his hand tremble—just a little. And then it passed, John collecting his own thoughts before continuing on. “But they still need to deal with the haunted victims, mourning relatives. Figure out how to tell them when you fail to get an indictment, or lose what seemed like an open-and-shut case in court. There are always going to be faces and voices to haunt you, unless you get out of this kind of work completely. And that’s a lot easier said than done—I mean, look at me,” John finished with a grimace.

Sonny nodded in understanding. He could have sat there talking and drinking with John a lot longer, but he _was_ feeling in need of rest. And he didn’t want to miss court tomorrow. As he contemplated departing, his eyes traveled over the many items on John’s cluttered desk. He recognized the same photo that was on Fin’s of the two of them, a bust of President Kennedy, and a line-up of books which seemed to follow on the JFK theme. “Kennedy must be a big hero of yours?”

“Ah, he was an inspiration to my generation. We genuinely believed, back then, that we could do anything if we put our minds to it. Especially if we worked with—not against—each other. It’s a message too often forgotten today.” He pulled out a book from the stack, then presented it to Sonny. “Have you read this?”

“‘Profiles in Courage.’ Sounds familiar, but no.” 

“Give it a read. Then come around again and we’ll talk about it—over another round of bourbon.”

“Thanks—for the drink, and the book. I will.” Sonny stood up to leave, but there was one last question on his mind now. “Hey, since you’re a big fan and all, I’ve always wondered... What do you think happened with his assassination? ’Cause I remember, even back in high school when I read about it, somethin’ didn’t add up to me.”

John practically beamed with pride and excitement. “I knew I liked you, kid. We’ll talk about _that_ next time for sure.” He lowered his gaze and added, conspiratorially, “Don’t mention it to Fin, though. Or else I’ll be banished to sleeping on the sofa and that’s terrible on my lower back.”

“I won’t. Have a good night, John.”

“You do the same.”

And Sonny thought maybe—just maybe—he actually would.

 


End file.
